


Sole Survivors

by Katiemonz



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infinity War, Infinity War spoilers, both of them are basically all alone, i mean ffs nebula and thor are the only two people left alive that rocket knows by name, my space boys need to hug it out, they both need a friend and a good hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katiemonz/pseuds/Katiemonz
Summary: Infinity War Spoilers! Rocket is the only Guardian to make it out of the snap alive, and everyone who has ever cared about him is gone. Thor lost his family, his best friend, and so many of his people that he doesn't know how much of Asgard is even left for him to be king of. Both of them staying on Earth with nothing and no one, but at least they (kind of) have each other.





	Sole Survivors

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who knows me well knows that Guardians of the Galaxy is one of my favorite movies of all time, as is its sequel, so Infinity War hit me so damn hard. Rocket being my favorite Guardian and Thor quickly becoming one of my favorite Avengers, I absolutely adored their interactions in Infinity War. After watching the movie for a second time, I was able to finish this quick one shot :) My first time writing these characters, so let me know how I did!
> 
> Obviously, Infinity War spoilers ahead.

It’s a quiet day. Not just around the Avengers compound, but everywhere. With half the world’s population suddenly vanished into thin air, they expect riots, looting, a small but powerful burst of chaos as people look to take advantage of the situation. But that never comes. It’s a stay-at-home-and-remember kind of day, because everybody lost someone. No one got out unscathed. No one has the energy to be angry--at least not yet.

The few official Avengers that remain, along with the handful of surviving newcomers, are all holed up in the compound for the time being. They need to recuperate and come up with a plan to fix all this (or, at the very least, a plan for how to avenge everyone), because it won’t be long until governments and press outlets start to hounding them with questions. But, for the time being… quiet.

Rocket, tired of being almost tripped over, talked to by people he didn’t know, or generally disturbed, has made his own personal space in a corner of one of the compound’s training rooms, currently going unused. Sure, there are plenty of empty living quarters in this joint he could’ve taken as his own, but they had all belonged to someone or other. Even if he barely knows these people, he doesn’t want to go barging into some dead person’s room. And oh, there are plenty of dead people. The guy with the winged suit he’d seen flying around? Dead. The guy dressed in all black with the badass claws? Dead. Mind stone guy, red magic girl, even the guy with the metal arm who he’d fought back to back with? Dead, dead, dead. Groot. Dead.

And if that weren’t enough, Nebula shows up not too long after, piloting the Milano with some guy named Stark. One of Thor’s friends, apparently. And what does he say? Wizard, dead, spider kid, dead, Pete, Gamora, Drax, Mantis, all dead dead dead dead.

In one day, Rocket went from arguing with them all about how they’d split up reward money, to being the only Guardian still alive. Well, one of two Guardians if you count Nebula, but he didn’t. So… one.

That was two days ago now. He’s sticking around on Earth because he has no where better to go, he agrees to help because he has nothing better to do. No matter where in the galaxy he goes, it won’t be any less depressing. People are dead everywhere. Might as well stay here, where there’s Nebula (who he knows but doesn’t exactly like), where there’s Thor (who he likes but doesn’t exactly know), where there’s free room and board and people who won’t, like, kill him or anything. In all seriousness, his standards are pretty low at this point.

He’s in his “room”, aka the back corner of the training room next to a bowflex, polishing one of his guns. It’s a big one, pieces from the old hadron enforcer reconfigured into a more portable bazooka. It was one of the few things he grabbed from his cramped bunk in the Milano before he rushed out of there. Being in there, in an empty ship that should feel overcrowded, felt wrong, so wrong. If he stays out here, on this alien planet surrounded by alien people, it makes it easier to push those feelings away. Not forget, he can’t forget if he tried, but he could at least not focus on… that. Them.

He looks up when he hears the metal door slide open. Thor walks in, and Rocket is grateful that its someone whose name he can actually remember. The guy is wearing Earth clothes instead of his normal armor, and he looks like he’s keeping it together alright, ie. he looks like he took a shower and didn’t cry through it. “Ah, Rabbit! I thought I might find you here.” He walks over to Rocket, stepping over some of the smaller pieces of training equipment in his way. “Rogers is calling everyone to the briefing room to try and get some plan together. You coming?”

“Mmh,” Rocket mutters, looking down at the weapon in his hands. “Which one is Rogers again?”

“Uh, yea tall. Pretty muscular. Beard isn’t as good as mine,” Thor gestures, first for the height and then to his freshly trimmed beard.

“You just described half the guys in this place,” Rocket says, shooting an annoyed glance up at Thor. “This meeting mandatory?”

“Um, I guess… not?”

“Cool, then I’m stayin’ here. See ya later.”

“What? Nooo,” Thor says as he smiles that incredulous smile of his. He sits down next to Rocket, legs out in front of him and elbows resting on his knees. “Come on, don’t be such a party pisser.”

Rocket has been friends with Quill long enough that he knows that isn’t the way the saying is supposed to go, but he just shakes his head and goes back to polishing the bazooka. “Doesn’t sound like much of a party.”

“A… friendly get together, then.”

“Wouldn’t really call these guys friends.”

Thor shrugs. “Ah, well, you just don’t know them yet.”

“Yeah…” Rocket sighs, scrubbing at the barrel of the weapon in his arms. “Yeah, I don’t know them. I don’t know a single person on this damn planet, do I? I barely even know you.”

Thor opens his mouth as if to argue, but closes it again after a beat. He squirms a little, adjusting himself in his seat. He looks ahead, eyes pointed at the door but unfocused. “Yeah,” he says, quiet, and that’s it. Rocket looks up at him, expects him to continue, but he doesn’t say anything else. Just looks ahead with those mismatched eyes.

“I mean, you’re cool an’ all. We made a good team, back on Nidavellir an’ shit,” Rocket says, resting the bazooka on his lap. The bazooka made from the parts of the gun that couldn’t kill Ronan, couldn’t save Groot, that probably wouldn’t be able to do shit to Thanos so what did it even matter. He tosses aside the rag he was using to polish it. “Wish we were a better team. Or that my whole group of idiots had been with us during that big fight. Maybe things would’a… not gotten fucked to hell. Maybe some of em’d still be here.”

Thor nods and manages a small smile, and Rocket wonders how the guy can consistently smile even when things are at their worst. It’s like he’s the god of sunshine, not thunder. “I wish I had gotten to know them better. They seemed a good crew.”

“Weren’t my crew, Quill was the captain. Not me,” Rocket says quickly, trying to get that lie over with as soon as possible. Normally he loves wounding Quill’s pride, but it feels wrong now. He never used to care so much about respecting dead people. After all, everybody’s got dead people. But these are  _ his _ dead people. “I’m the engineer. Weapons and explosives guy. Co-pilot.” A pause. “Well, I… I guess I used to be. Now I’m just... an asshole with an empty ship.”

“And I’m a king with hardly any people left to protect.” Thor’s shoulders droop, but his gentle smile persists. He looks at Rocket, the small creature with the big mouth and the even bigger heart, the one who hummed Earth music halfway to Nidavellir, whose best friend was a teenage tree, who was so broken up after learning the fate of his friends that he cried himself hoarse in front of everyone. “We really are a couple of losers, aren’t we?”

Rocket’s fur stands on end, hearing those words again, and he’s thankful that he’s already sitting on the floor because he might’ve lost his balance otherwise, that’s how much it shakes him.  _ I mean, like, folks who have lost stuff. And we have, man, we have, all of us. Our homes. Our families. Normal lives.  _ It rings in his ears, roars through his mind, those words that brought them all together for the first time so many years ago. The first time they felt like a family.  _ Dammit. Dammit! Why’d they have to…? _ He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to hold in what he knows will be a pathetic sniffle. “Quill called us losers, too,” he forces out, speaking quickly before his voice has a chance to crack. He’s so damn tired of crying.

There’s a beat of silence where Thor says nothing, but the tension in the air makes it obvious that he wants to say  _ something. _ Something to make everything feel alright, even though things were far from alright for either of them. “Rab--Rocket,” he starts to say, then corrects himself. Rocket opens his eyes, tries to ignore how sore they feel, and picks his head up to look at him. “Thanos has taken much--too much--from me, and from you. And there is no one who can replace those that we have lost, but--”

“But what?” Rocket’s voice is low, and he’s already glaring, prepared not to like whatever Thor has to say next.

“But, ah…” Thor clicks his tongue, and for the first time since he sat down, he looks sad. “Do you... want to be friends?”

Rocket’s scowl is gone, vanishes in an instant, and is replaced by raised eyebrows and a surprised-straight posture. When he realizes Thor is being completely serious, he can’t help it. He laughs. Nose scrunched up, head thrown back, borderline knee-slapping laughs. “Ya sound like a little kid on the first day of school!” he howls. “Ya walk up to the first snot-nosed brat you see sittin’ all by himself and ya just… just…” A tear slips out from one of his tired eyes, and the laughter shakes a little bit. “You really are somethin’, ya know that?”

“I’ve always figured it was a good question to ask people,” Thor says, giving a big shrug and leaning back against the wall. “A little heavy-handed, but everyone’s on the same page that way. There’s something nice about that.” Rocket immediately gets the vibe that this guy’s had some complicated relationships in his life. That family drama he mentioned earlier must have been intense. “I mean, I like to consider you a friend--”

“Yeah, you’re my friend too, big guy,” Rocket interrupts before they can do the whole  _ you don’t have to if you don’t want to _ song and dance. He’s still smiling from laughing and he wipes at his eyes and nose, trying to get rid of any tears and snot clinging to his fur. “We’re friends.”

“Excellent!” Thor exclaims, and Rocket suddenly finds himself with Thor’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into the Asgardian’s side. Any other time he would fight an embrace like this, but it happens so fast (and he needs a hug so bad) that it barely crosses his mind to squirm his way free. “We can hang out together, talk about the far reaches of the universe, try weird Earth food together. And you can stand on my shoulders if you need to, like, see something better or shoot a guy or get something off a high shelf. And my door is always open, so if you ever need to talk about anything--”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Rocket smiles, still pinned under Thor’s arm. “And that goes for you too, pal,” he pokes Thor in the side, “‘cause I know you ain’t as okay as you look.”

Thor puffs air out his nose, part sigh part laugh. “Perceptive,” he says, and his smile finally fades a bit. “Perhaps, later, you could tell me more of the other Guardians. And I could tell you about my brother, Loki. You would have liked him, he got quite a kick out of stabbing people. Non-lethally most of the time, of course.”

Rocket is quiet, thoughts of his own family going through his mind. How no one else in this compound knows them, not like he does (well, he supposes Nebula knows Gamora at least, but Nebula is also no fun to talk to). He wants these people to know who the Guardians were, to know their names at least, and talking to one person about them is a good start.“Yeah,” he says, putting his arm around Thor’s back. “Sounds good.”

They sit here like this for a moment, in their height-challenged side hug. Two who have both lost everything, who have no choice but to call Earth their home now, because where else is there? One who has been gone from Midgard for so long that he has no idea why Rogers and Stark don’t seem to like each other anymore, has no idea when the Avengers welcomed so many bug-themed heroes into their ranks, doesn’t even know when this compound was built. One who has never been to Terra until now but who knows their music, knows the names of their “greatest” movies and their plots just through osmosis, knew one guy who was half-human who loved this planet so much despite never wanting to come back.

After this moment is up, Rocket stands, hoisting up the bazooka with him. “We got time to talk later,” he says. “C’mon, didn’t you say there was some meetin’ happenin’? T’come up with a plan?”

“Ah, yes!” Thor lights up again before jumping to his feet. “Hopefully Rogers hasn’t started yet. They’ll need us. Your cool spaceship, my cool axe. You know.” He leads the way, walking out of the room with footfalls that are heavy like Drax’s and yet with a swagger like Quill’s. Rocket’s heart pangs, and he wonders how long it’ll take for that to stop happening. If it’ll ever stop happening. “Oh, Rocket, one more thing,” Thor says, reaching the door and turning around to face his new capital F Friend. “Welcome to the Avengers.”

Rocket stops for a second where he stands, and then shoulders the bazooka with a smirk. “Sweet. We got some avengin’ to do.”


End file.
